


A Court of Death and Beauty

by rhysandsdarling



Category: A Court of Thorns and Roses Series - Sarah J. Maas
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Fairy Tale, F/M, Retelling
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-20
Updated: 2018-04-03
Packaged: 2019-04-05 03:20:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,398
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14035062
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rhysandsdarling/pseuds/rhysandsdarling
Summary: A fairy tale style retelling of ACTOAR/ACOMAF.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! I had this idea and had to write it just after re-reading ACOTAR.
> 
> I'm also currently doing my thesis so please be patient with updates. Or maybe I'll fly through this because I want to procrastinate.

My new uniform was scratchy and stiff against my skin. Nothing like the comfortable, if not worn, clothes I was accustomed to. I supposed it was a way for the Lafayettes to flaunt their wealth - I seriously doubted they held any concerns over the comfort of their servants. But if they could adorn their entire household in clean, crisp clothes then it showed that they must be rich. Absurdly so.

I forced my face to remain pleasant, to avoid revealing the disgust I felt for my new employers as Arthur, the house steward, introduced me to Lady Amarantha Lafayette. I curtsied, head bowed, and swallowed the bile that was crawling its way up my throat.

“It’s lovely to meet you Faith,” she smiled, sitting on what could only be described as a throne.

Dazzling was the only way I could think to describe Lady Amarantha. Tall, slim, with alabaster skin and shining red hair - she would have been beautiful, if it weren’t for her cruel, black eyes.

“It’s Feyre,” I said, with a polite smile that failed to reach my eyes.

Something flickered in Lady Amarantha’s eyes as her face turned to stone.

Arthur turned sharply towards me and said “How dare you speak without permission. Apologise!”

Resisting the urge to curse instead, I turned to Lady Amarantha, with the same strained smile. “My apologies.”

“My apologies, _Lady_ ,” Arthur spat.

“My apologies, Lady.”

Lady Amarantha’s returning smile was laced with malice.

“You’re excused, uh...” she tapped a finger against her mouth in mock forgetfulness. “Feyre, was it? But only because I know it won’t happen again.”

The underlying threat made my stomach turn.

“Leave,” she said, with a flick of her wrist. “Take her to Alis.”

As we walked down the halls of Lady Amarantha’s manor, I couldn’t help but notice the extravagant décor of the place. There were large paintings in golden frames; deep, soft rugs in rich colours; gilt and sparkles everywhere. Fresh flowers, shining windows, polished wood. My senses were overwhelmed and the artist inside me wanted to take in every little detail. I would have found it stunning if I didn’t know how Lady Amarantha afforded it all. Instead, it left a bad taste in my mouth.

Five years. Lady Amarantha had been ruling Prythian by herself for five years. Five years since I’d had a proper meal. Five years since I last felt properly warm. Five years since I’d felt anything other than bitterness and despair.

And not just me. Everyone in Prythian.

It hadn’t always been this way. The previous Lord of Prythian, Keldan Lafayette, was a far cry better than Amarantha. Not great, but better. His wife had died giving birth to his only son, Tamlin. Fifteen years later, Lord Keldan thought it prudent to remarry, and chose Amarantha. But, not too soon after, Keldan died after falling off his horse while drunk. At least that’s the official story.

Normally, Tamlin would have taken over as Lord. But Keldan’s will stated that the lands were only to be handed over to his son after he was married. Something about continuing the family line. So Lady Amarantha became the sole ruler of Prythian.

And now, five years later, Tamlin - a Lord's son, described by everyone as the most beautiful man in Prythian - was still unable to find someone to marry him. We all thought that he would have had a long line of women throwing themselves at the chance to become the Lady of Prythian. We all thought that Amarantha would be gone by the end of a year. But not a single woman ever accepted Tamlin's proposals.

By some accounts it was because he was an arrogant asshole with a short temper, angry and sullen about his position in the court. So not exactly the most romantic personality. But by others, Amarantha was employing the same methods she used to get rid of Keldan to stop anyone getting close to Tamlin: witchcraft.

Either way it spelt bad news for everyone in Prythian.

For even if Tamlin did manage to convince someone to marry him, Amarantha had contingencies in place. When Amarantha married Keldan, she made sure that her stepson from her previous marriage legally became a Lafeyette - that Keldan accepted him wholly as his son. And since Keldan only said ‘my son’ and not ‘Tamlin’ in his will, Amarantha’s evil reign could continue if Rhysand managed to find some stupid, naive woman to marry him first.

Because even though Rhysand wasn’t Amarantha’s son by blood, he was closer to her than the average mother and child. Much, _much,_ closer, if the rumours were to be believed. And just as awful.

I had barely noticed were Arthur was leading me until he stopped suddenly, and I nearly ran into him. We were in the servant’s quarters. Underground, the communal dining room was dark and dank, a thin layer of soot covering everything. Including the staff. Arthur sneered as a short woman with brown skin and a kind face approached us.

“Is this the new girl?” she asked.

“Why else would I be down here in this filthy basement?” said Arthur. “You know what to do.”

He turned sharply on his heel and sprang up the stairs.

“Don’t mind him,” the woman laughed, “he seems to forget he’s not noble blood just because he’s the steward. I’m Alis, the housekeeper.” She held out her hand.

“Feyre,” I said, taking it and trying, but failing, to return her warm smile.

“It’s OK, you’ll get used to it here. It’s not so bad compared to most,” said Alis, as she led me deeper into the dining room.

“Believe me, I know,” I said under my breath.

“You'll start by following me around, to get an idea of the place and your duties. It’s hard work but easy to learn, and you seem like a smart girl.”

Relief surged through me, knowing that I would have an instructor. I had no doubt in my mind that Alyce was more forgiving of mistakes than Amarantha was.

“But come, sit.” She beckoned me to the table where there was a meager breakfast of bread, butter and milk. There were also bacon scraps, obviously leftover from the breakfast upstairs.

But before I could sit and eat real butter for the first time in three years, the door to the kitchen opened and a deep, sensuous laugh rang through the room. Out of the kitchen stepped a man, tearing open a pomegranate.

A tall, lithe, black haired man with a wicked smile and a glint in his eye. The most beautiful man I had ever had the misfortune to see.

Rhysand Lafeyette.

It was impossible not to recognise him.There was always a huge buzz whenever he went down into the village, because he had a habit of spending money like it was nothing to him. He wouldn't ask for prices; he just tossed some coins at whoever he bought something off, not even looking at what he spent. He often overpaid. So even though people in the village hated him, they loved his money.  

Despite my best efforts to fade into the shadows, he spotted me straight away with the same dark, cruel eyes of his mother, and prowled straight towards me.

“Ah, the fresh meat,” he drawled, looking me up and down. I was frozen on the spot, sheer dread flooding my body.

“Yes master,” Alis interrupted, drawing Rhysand’s attention away from me. “She is one of the new maids.”

One corner of Rhysand’s mouth turned up as his eyes turned back to me. Slowly, he put a pomegranate seed on his tongue, then burst it between his teeth. “Good luck,” he said, clearly amused, and stalked out of the room.

I let go of the breath I was holding and almost collapsed into a dining chair.

Sliding a plate of bread towards me, Alis said “You will get used to it. I promise.”


	2. Chapter 2

The next few days I shadowed Alis as she performed her duties: dusting, scrubbing, shifting, managing. Thankfully, I had no further interactions with Rhysand or Amarantha. I was not as lucky with Arthur, not matter how hard Alis tried to shield me from him.

He would always turn up while we were in the middle of a task, even when he seemed to have no reason to be there. He would then proceed to mock us, let us know what a poor job we were doing, and threaten to fire us if we didn’t pick up our game. Alis explained that it was fairly typical behaviour for the steward, but he rarely made good on his threats. It would reflect poorly on his hiring and managing skills if he were constantly dismissing people. I was unnerved none the less.

But even after a week, I still hadn’t met the final member of the household. Tamlin. The golden-haired hope for Prythian. Not much to hope for if he’s never here, I thought.

“Where is Tamlin anyway?” I asked Alis, as we were cleaning the drawing room. It was wallpapered in a deep, rich red, floored with lush, black carpet and furnished with purple velvet armchairs beside gleaming mahogany tables. We were up on a ladder, changing over the candles and polishing the hundreds of crystals on the enormous chandelier.

“Master Tamlin is away in Hybern, visiting Lord Damos's daughter,” she said. “He should be back any day now.”

Hybern. Amarantha used to be a member of Lord Damos’s Court. I snorted.

Alis glanced at me disapprovingly.

“You know he needs to find a wife before he claims his title as Lord,” said Alis, pursing her lips.

“It’s not like he’s had any luck so far.”

Alis stopped her work and stared at me, shocked.

“I just mean,” I sighed, “that if someone as wealthy and supposedly gorgeous as him hasn’t found a woman to marry him yet, there might be a reason. Maybe he should just stay here and try to help the people he’s sworn to protect.”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Maybe I didn’t. It’s not like I knew him. I’d never even seen him – he had never visited my small village. He was probably too busy galivanting around other courts, trying to convince the noble women there to be his wife. But I’d heard stories from acquaintances who lived in the nearby city, Velaris.

And those stories did not paint a pretty picture.

Once, Tamlin had gone into a store run by a girl I used to sell animal furs to, Clare Beddor. He had asked for her to make him a new cloak, and when he came to collect it, he took one look at it and sneered “That’s the best you can do?” Never mind that Clare was the best seamstress in Velaris, or that she had spent more time and money on that cloak than any other item of clothing she had ever made. Apparently, without paying for it, Tamlin picked up the cloak and threw it in the lit fireplace before storming out of Clare’s store.

Needless to say, I didn’t put much stock into witchcraft being the reason Tamlin hadn’t found a wife.

But before I could recount the story to Alis, there was a loud bang in the adjoining hallway. Startled, I nearly fell off the ladder. Someone had opened the front door so forcefully it had crashed into the wall.

“I’M DONE, LUCIEN. DONE!” I heard the newcomer roar.

I turned to Alis in time to see the blood drain from her face.

“Quickly,” she said, and started down her side of the ladder.

Confused, I followed her down.

“Who’s-“ I started. Alis just sushed me, grabbed my hand, and led me to the side door.

I heard the voice of who I assumed must be Lucien trying to calm whoever he was with.

“NO. STOP IT. IT’S USELESS, NONE OF THEM ARE RIGHT!”

The shouting faded as Alis led me through the library and into the servant’s passages. Closing the door behind her, she paused and took a deep breath.

“That’s Master Tamlin,” Alis explained.

My eyes widened and mouth opened in horror and disbelief.

“He’s always like this when he comes back from another Court,” Alis went on. “It’s best just to stay out of his way until he calms down.”

“Why?” I asked, my shock growing stronger.

“That’s none of your concern.”

A cacophony of sound like a chisel on stone reverberated through the floor.

 

*****

 

Tamlin had thrown a suit of armour that stood in the entrance hall. A suit of armour that Alis had to reassemble and clean. A suit of armour that had scratched up the wooden floor that I now had to wax and polish.

None of my concern. Bullshit.

I wondered how much time Alis and the other maids had spent cleaning up after Tamlin’s outbursts.

As Alis disappeared to get more polish, there were footsteps then a thump as someone fell into one of the armchairs in the drawing room.

“Why do I even bother, Lucien. I despise them all.”

It was Tamlin. Even though the door to the drawing room was closed, I was on my hands and knees right next to it, polishing the floor. I could hear him clearly through the gaps in the door.

I wasn’t sure if Tamlin knew I could hear him. Should I leave? Or finish my work? Alis wasn’t there to ask.

“You don’t have to love someone to marry them,” I heard Lucien reply. His voice was warm and smooth compared to Tamlin’s growl.

“I can’t even pretend to like them enough. They see how little I care and want nothing to do with me.”

“You have to keep trying. You just haven’t met the right woman yet.”

Silence.

Then footsteps.

I barely had time to scramble out of the way so the door didn’t slam into my face as it opened.

Tamlin halted before me. He towered over me, his startlingly green eyes meeting mine as he bared his teeth.

Beautiful, white, straight teeth that were framed by a full, soft mouth. He had a strong jawline that was framed by long, golden hair. 

I imagined he could be heartbreakingly beautiful, if he was smiling.

Without waiting for me to get out of the way, Tamlin strode over my legs and stalked up the stairs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I will be constantly updating previous chapters as I write new ones - I tend to read through the ones I've already posted to remember the feel, what I wrote etc, and I'll edit typos or reword things. No major changes, just tweaks. I've already done it for the first chapter.
> 
> Also I think I might be posting a lot more of this. I find it really helpful for my mental illness to write this lol I was feeling terrible and needed something constructive to do and this really worked. So maybe this will be a great coping strategy yay!
> 
> Anyway hope you like it, thanks for the support, and if you want to, go back and read the first chapter for slightly better quality writing. xxxx


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